


i'm on your back

by orihime



Series: i cannot be without you, matter of fact [2]
Category: Free!
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-14
Updated: 2014-03-14
Packaged: 2018-01-13 15:38:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1231894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orihime/pseuds/orihime
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Haru's turn now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i'm on your back

**Author's Note:**

> So, thing: my friend liked walking after you so much she asked me for 25 lifetimes from Haru's POV and well, this happened. It's nowhere near what the first part was and I'm not entirely happy with how it came out but I guess it would be worse if I were to force the writing, so there's that. I hope you guys enjoy it, nonetheless!
> 
> Unbeta'd, so all mistakes are mine.

"And I'd choose you; in a hundred lifetimes, in a hundred worlds, in any version of reality, I'd find you and I'd choose you." - Kiersten White, _The Chaos of Stars_

* * *

**i.**

This time, Haru doesn't forget. He remembers who he is, who he used to be, he remembers the person who chased after him time and time again; he remembers green, _the colour of hope_ , he remembers warm kisses and strong arms around his body, he remembers his home, where _he_ is.

It hits him suddenly one cold morning on his way to work, when a petite young woman walks past him, and with one look at her infinite green gaze the memories come flooding into his mind, neverending flashbacks of countless lives they'd lived side by side, leaving him gasping for air and clutching at his chest, his heart pounding in it so hard he felt he was going to burst at any moment.

When the moment is gone and he regains his composure, he runs after her, reaches for her wrist and calls her— _his—_ name. And then confusion and a hint of fear paint her expression and he realizes.

It's his turn to chase after his love.

**ii.**

Sometimes, Makoto is there, his fingers intertwined with Haru's under the table, sneaking kisses in the dark, hidden from prying eyes, glancing at him over the corner of his green, green eyes.

He's there, right by Haru's side, assuring him that forbidden love is just a childish concept, that _there's nothing forbidden about the way I love you, we'll get out of here, run away, just you and me, I'll never leave you._

(But he does, oh he does. Makoto leaves and, driven by despair, so does Haru. Until the next time.)

**iii.**

No matter how many years pass, how many times she lives or who she wakes up to be, Haru is still Haru in her very core, and _he_ 's never been one to enjoy family gatherings. That had remained unchanged until now, when Makoto had been born into her family, and now she had a reason to look forward to them and spend time with his cousin.

Except she doesn't, not really, when Makoto arrives with an unfamiliar woman clinging to his arm, crimson orbs sparkling with excitement and Haru narrows her eyes in recognition, and inhales sharply at the jealousy and possessiveness that seem intent on crushing her chest.

Then later Makoto announces he and his girlfriend—this impossibly beautiful version of the person who was once Haru's greatest rival—are getting married, and there's betrayal in Haru's eyes and an apology in Makoto's, and his words resonate in her mind, each like a stab to her back, like salt to her wound; _we were drunk, I'm sorry, it won't happen again, we're cousins, what will they say,_ and barely above a whisper, hidden between sobs, a stray _I love you_ that Haru will cling to until the day she dies.

She lets go of it for now, when she stands up so quickly she knocks her chair down, and storms out of the room, out of the house, out of their sight.

**iv.**

He never doubted for a second that there weren't humanoid creatures living in the vast depths of the ocean, and he's not surprised when he finds himself swimming among them, his tail swishing back and forth, the arms pushing through the water in front of his eyes a reminder of what he is, of the human part of him. Now that he's absolutely certain that mermaids aren't just a myth though, he's sure he'll live his next lives forever jealous of them, of their ability to call the ocean their home.

He wonders if Makoto would live in constant fear if he too had been born a merman, before reminding himself that his friend confronted and overcame his fears with his head held high, and that thought alone is enough to provide him with the strength he'll surely need to live through a life without the person he loves by his side.

**v.**

The scratching sound of pencil sliding against paper fills the room he's in, his hands moving so fast he's not sure he can see what he's doing anymore, but it comes as easy as breathing, face after face, expression after expression, sketch after sketch.

He only stops drawing when it's too much, when his chest tightens and he feels like he can't breathe, when he's only able to pull his hair and rock back and forth, broken sobs escaping his lips, gasping for air, crying himself to sleep. It's only then when he rests.

The loss, the memories, the loneliness, Makoto's absence, Makoto's lack of knowledge of who he is, of who they are, Makoto's lack of feelings towards him; it all becomes too much, and he doesn't know if he'll be able to keep going like this, doesn't know if he's strong enough, doesn't know where to go, what to do, who to go to for help. He's alone, and he only has his sketches of every version of Makoto he's encountered so far, and with a wheeze he wishes Makoto had never forgotten.

He's lying on the floor when he wakes up, eyes red and puffy, and he can only manage a short shower before his fingers start tingling with the need to draw, and soon enough he has a whole wall covered in sketches that are lacking every colour but green.

**vi.**

He sees her first when he returns to his classroom after forgetting his textbook, forgetting as well about the afternoon classes he doesn't take, because he has his early morning ones. She's sitting at his desk, and he watches her for a few seconds with the tiniest hint of a smile on his face, and the next day when his classes are done, what he leaves behind isn't his textbook but a neatly folded paper on top of the desk, and although his way with words is still clumsy and not at all ideal, a reply is waiting for him when once again he enters the classroom the day after.

It goes on like this for a few days before he decides to take the next step, hoping she still likes chocolate, leaving a few in a small bag for her, a hint at his feelings, a reminder of the holiday that draws close, and he huffs, amused at the doodle of an embarrassed girl on the corner of the paper where Makoto's reply is written.

When Valentine's day comes and there's a small box of chocolates waiting for Haru at his desk, his eyes twinkle and he decides to stay where he's sitting as his classmates all leave for their homes, and a little while after lunch he's startled by the sound of the classroom doors sliding open, and standing behind it is Makoto, her eyes widening when Haru stands up and she recognizes the box in his hands, and his lips curl upwards in the warmest smile he's managed to put on his face until now.

**vii.**

It's been going for about a year and a half, and although their friends and family are against the idea because _how can you trust someone you met on the internet,_ they both turn on deaf ears and only listen to each other, because they're positive this won't be an online relationship forever, and Haru's not going to let Makoto go just because a little distance and disapproving parents stand in their way.

That's what he thinks of when he clutches his phone with so much strength he's surprised it hasn't snapped in half yet, furiously pumping his cock with his free hand as he heatedly whispers promises he's determined to see through between ragged breaths, encouraged by his girlfriend's moans at the other end of the line.

**viii.**

Haru can't remember another time when she's been as happy as she is now except when she was _Haru_ and Makoto had been there to witness his every breath, his every step, and vice versa. This time is the same, only now it's Haru's turn to be nothing else other than absolutely loyal to Makoto, for her family had been serving the royal family for countless generations, and she had had the pleasure of growing in the castle, just like Makoto, the prince, _a prince_ , and they had grown side by side and loved each other since they were conscious enough to know what was to love.

And although romantic relationships between royalty and their servants were frowned upon in society, that didn't stop her master, her friend, her _lover_ to wrap an arm around her waist and pull her into his bed after she left his breakfast at his bedside table every morning.

They both knew this secret affair of theirs would come to an end some day, but for now they were content with lying side by side, exchanging tender kisses and soft caresses, conveying their love to each other through their gazes.

**ix.**

When her parents had told her how she was going to get married to a man she didn't know, Haruka had thrown a fit and and locked herself up in her room for days, not speaking a word to them, claiming that she was already in love with someone, that she didn't want to get married to anybody else. They hadn't listened, and that was the end of that.

She was all kinds of relieved when she arrived at the café where she was supposed to meet her fiancé and saw him sitting at a table in one of the far corners of the shop, his green eyes darkened by the scowl on his face, and after greetings that were too formal to Haru's tastes, he proceeded to inform her of his discomfort with the arrangement, claiming they didn't know each other, they didn't love each other, to which Haru replied, blue orbs shining with determination, that she _would_ make him fall in love with her. And she would make sure it worked.

And it worked.

**x.**

Haru's pretty sure Makoto thinks she's an alcoholic or she really hates being at home, given that she spends more time at the bar than what would be considered healthy, but she couldn't care less, wouldn't tell her it's because of her, because she works in this place, that the now redhead spends so much time in it.

(She ends up telling Makoto about it, when all her not-so-subtle flirting pays off and she's where she belongs: in the other woman's bed, in her arms, between her legs.)

**xi.**

If Nagisa were to be around, he'd surely laugh his ass off at Haruka _"anything that isn't swimming is too bothersome"_ Nanase being a butler, and he himself finds his situation worthy of a good laugh, as he adjusts his suit and walks down to the kitchen to retreive his young master's breakfast, climbing up the stairs with a tray full of the healthy yet delicious treats his bocchan loves.

It's not what Haru wants, yet he can't help but thinking that it's enough getting to spend his life by Makoto's side and watching him grow up as emerald eyes flutter open, the child rubbing them, still much too sleepy.

It would have to be enough.

**xii.**

A catholic boarding school was the last place Haru thought she would spend her teenage years in, but she had grown used to it eventually, and now she just wondered if the teachers, the nuns, _everyone_ around her were so stupidly oblivious or just overlooking the true nature of her and her roommate's relationship.

It was surprising, to say the least, that they'd allowed them to graduate, but even if it went unnoticed by the people there, it didn't go the same way with her parents, and when she got home she also got an earful on homosexuality, although nothing she hadn't heard at school already.

Her response was to roll her eyes—to which her parents both reacted with a scandalized gasp—and asked them how hadn't they seen it coming, before walking past them and towards her room, packing the few things that were left in it wihtout wasting any time; Makoto and their new life together were waiting for her.

**xiii.**

_Bluebells, red, yellow, white camellias, ericas, red and white roses._ Haru had always considered himself an artist, and he supposed it suited him to be practicing Ikebana. Flowers, he supposed, would be another way in which he and Makoto could communicate without using words.

_Cherry blossoms, anemones, hibiscuses, spider lilies, irises, forget-me-nots._ Only he didn't have Makoto to express his feelings to, and his only consolation was in arranging bouquets to decorate his house, reminding himself of his feelings, of the person he loves, and...

_Red spider lilies, lotuses, morning glories, pink roses, primroses, daisies._ Reminding himself to stay strong.

**xiv.**

He doesn't find Makoto's gentle eyes until he's become weak, his skin wrinkled, his hair white, and his family can't give him the attention he needs as an old person, thus deciding to leave him in the care of people they trust will make his last days comfortable, will tend to his whims, will clean him up when he can't.

He doesn't hate them for that, on the contrary, when a Makoto that quite resembles who he was when Haru first fell for him comes out to greet him and his family, Haru's suddenly filled with a sense of peace and comfort he hadn't felt in his whole life, and he knew it was thanks to Makoto's kind hands on his, his gaze on him and sweet promises of a time well spent at his new home.

He doesn't live long after that, but it doesn't really matter if it means he can go knowing that the last thing his eyes saw was Makoto's gentle smile, the one he was and always will be in love with.

**xv.**

It's a relief to find himself surrounded by familiar faces he didn't know he had missed so badly until he has them by his side again, and he doesn't bother hiding his true feelings as a smile graces his lips while he watches Rei and Rin's antics, so different from who they once were but still holding onto the essential things that makes them, _them_.

He knows he's in trouble when Nagisa's devilish eyes turn to him, and when his friend starts off with "I dare you to..." he doesn't complain because the now raven-haired teen didn't give him a chance to choose between _truth_ or dare. "I dare you to confess to your crush." he says, and theres a silence between all of them for a moment before Nagisa continues, "Right. Now."

Never one to back off from a challenge, Haru narrows his eyes and looks at all of them in the eyes, one by one, his gaze lingering on Rin a few moments to see his friend blushing bright red, before he turns his head sharply and looks at Makoto, his gaze dead serious as he says, loud, clear, unashamed: "I love you. Have felt like this ever since I can remember."

It's good he never backs up from a challenge, he thinks, years later, with Makoto's hair between his fingers, his lover sleeping peacefully with his head resting on Haru's chest.

**xvi.**

It's a good thing school and then work kept him busy most of his life, Haru thinks, because he didn't have much time to think about the person he didn't find, didn't have by his side, until now. It does make his heart ache when the plane he's in gets in a rather rough turbulence, and he didn't mind dying before, doesn't mind it now either, but he does wish he had had a chance of seeing the eyes he loves so deeply at least once this time.

The plane starts its descent and he closes his eyes as the people around him brace themselves for what's to come, and among the desperate yells of the terrified passengers the faint thud of the flight attendant losing her footing catches his attention, and he suppresses the urge to snort at this joke of a fate before unfastening his belt, reaching for her and holding her close to his chest in an attempt to keep her calm; _I'm here now, there's nothing to fear, I've got you._

He holds her face between his hands, wiping the tears running down her cheeks with his thumbs, and he looks at her emerald orbs filled with fear as he sheds a single tear himself, before pressing her even closer to him, and meeting her lips with his; a greeting, a goodbye, a promise of meeting again.

**xvii.**

He knew there would come a day when he'd become the prey, just as countless many others of his kind already had, so when he realized he had been driven to a corner and there was no escaping his fate anymore, he didn't fight it, didn't run anymore.

Just before the man in front of him delivered the final blow, Haru's eyes drifted to the trembling boy next to him, the man's son he assumed, and he would've smiled had he been able to.

If it meant helping Makoto live to see the sunrise once again, then Haru would offer his flesh and bones to him and embrace death, for with it came another chance for them to be together once more.

**xviii.**

He spots Makoto by chance when he's jumping out of a trashcan with bits and pieces of food in his stomach that will have to do for today's lunch, and with a swift move of his tail he follows the other home, ready to use his ever present weakness when it comes to cats against him.

After much meowing and a whine of _I can't have pets in the apartment, you know, you're being unfair, please go home,_ Makoto gives in and takes him in, letting him in his apartment and crouching down to pet Haru's chin before disappearing to the kitchen, only to come back with a small plate of fish ready for him.

Makoto's a popular guy, he learns after living for a few months with him, and he brings home girls and boys alike; and just like him, Haru doesn't discriminate and hisses and scratches every single one of Makoto's partners in a feeble attempt to convey to them that he _might not be human but that doesn't mean you can get your hands on Makoto._

When they leave, all Makoto does is sigh and pick him up, wondering what will he do with Haru but letting the kitten sleep next to him another night.

**xix.**

Haru can't ask for anything else when he has everything he needs in this bed, in his arms, in his life. Even though his family despises him for loving another man, he doesn't hold it against them—not because he doesn't hurt, mind you, but because Makoto's love fills him up and warms his heart and strengthens his soul in such a way that he's sure he'll never break, not as long as he has Makoto's hands to steady him whenever he staggers.

The thing is, Makoto doesn't seem to be as strong as him, doesn't seem to find Haru's love as strengthening as Haru finds his, and when he comes back home late at night and finds his lover sitting on the floor, empty bottles of wine scattered around him and he can feel his heart breaking, but not nearly as much as Makoto is, the pressure and rejection from his family and society finally catching up to him.

His words are slurry when he tells Haru he loves him, that he's sorry, that he's weak and can't go on, and confesses that he'd rather die together with Haru before living without him before taking out a gun and pointing it to his boyfriend's head, and as blue eyes widen in surprise and fear, the last thing he feels is Makoto's lips on his on a kiss that tasted as salty as his tears.

**xx.**

Haru finds himself living as a creature of the sea once again, except this time he doesn't live in the sea but in a tank, but he doesn't mind it as much as long as he's surrounded by water, and even better is the fact that a certain green-eyed person is his trainer.

So he endures show after show after show, putting on his best performance for the people's entertainment—but mostly because he likes the way Makoto praises him after every show, his eyes bright with a fondness he only held for the dolphin, the widest smile on his face every time.

They grow close with time, because they're Haru and Makoto and no matter which form they take they'll always be drawn to one another, and days pass and Haru's content just like this, knows he can enjoy his time as long as Makoto is by his side.

Time stops for them when Makoto has an accident underwater during one of the shows, and Haru tries to lift him up and get him off the water but it's too late, Makoto's not responding, is not breathing when his colleagues finally manage to get him out of the tank, and when they take him away, Makoto doesn't ever return.

Haru can't live with himself after that, not with the knowledge that he couldn't save Makoto, and determined to follow the one he loves, his behaviour becomes worse and worse, until he, too, is taken away to be put down.

**xxi.**

There are many things he's concerned about this time; the fact that his boss turned out to be no other than who he once knew as Rin Matsuoka, the fact that Makoto is his designed partner at work, the fact that said partner seems to be oblivious to Haruka's feelings, the fact that he's already engaged by the time the two meet. But the thing he's the most concerned about is the man in front of him, the serial killer they had been tracking down for _months_ , and who finally had decided to show himself in front of Haru. Only Haru, though.

The madman had been going on and on for a while now, spewing words that Haruka really didn't want to hear, ones that cut deep where it hurt the most, and he grit his teeth and refused to be surprised at how much the criminal knew about him. _You don't have the right to be his friend,_ he said, _not when your friendship is nothing more than bullshit, you and I both know that you couldn't care less about his perfect, pretty little fiancée, he's too good for you, you shouldn't be around, he'll never love you back._

_I don't care,_ Haru bit back, _I will protect him, as his friend, his partner, it's my duty, I'll never leave him,_ to which the other man replied with a small smile full of so much pity it almost made Haru gag. And although he was pointing his gun at the murderer he didn't have time to react when the other took out a gun of his own and pulled the trigger, and his last thought was wishing Makoto would be fine without him.

**xxii.**

Haru never expected to be accused of witchcraft when she moved to the outskirts of the village she had been born in; she was actually hoping she'd get out of trouble's way and be able to lead a peaceful life, but it seemed that fate wasn't intent on granting her wishes.

It had started back when she had seen Makoto walk past her house on a rainy morning, she supposes, and learned of her mother's demise at the stake, also accused of being a witch. Makoto, now a little girl of no more than 8 years old, had been living with Haru ever since; lost, orphan, homeless, Haru wasn't going to leave her alone. But neither would the villagers.

As she kicked and thrashed and screamed her innocence and begged the people to let her go, that she was all the poor child had, the witnesses only laughed in her face and tightened the ropes that bind her to the stake at her back around her, claiming that the child, surely also a witch, wouldn't live long enough to grieve her loss, and that only fueled Haru's rage, her desire to live and take Makoto away from there.

Her pleas fell on deaf ears and her own desperate screams were all she could hear, Makoto's terrified face stained with tears and dirt all her water-filled gaze could see, and right before her consciousness slipped away for the last time, Haru could've sworn she heard Makoto call her name, the name she responded to when all she had to worry about was which swimsuit to wear for the day.

_Haru._

**xxiii.**

The sketches and paintings that used to serve as both a stress-relief and painful reminder of what he didn't have were what took him to stardom, and soon enough Haru found himself taking advantage of his rising celebrity status to try and find Makoto this time.

It proved successful not after a short amount of time, when his first big exhibition had been arranged, displaying a series of paintings that as a whole were called _Parallel Worlds_ , which he explained were different versions of the same souls in their many lifetimes.

The paintings featured him and Makoto, with the occasional Nagisa, Rei, Rin, Kou here and there. They were well received and his ears catched many wonderful praises, but he was stunned to silence when his eyes fell on a petite young woman frozen in place, a hand covering her lips, tears running like waterfalls down her cheeks.

He recognized her instantly, as she seemed to recognized the paintings, and suddenly the anxiousness and dread were back and clinging to his heart stronger than ever, and he didn't know if he was doing the right thing when he excused himself for the evening, but he wasn't sure either if he could face Makoto like this.

After that night, Haru stopped attending to his own exhibitions.

**xxiv.**

After much pestering from a Nagisa who was almost as annoying as the original Nagisa, Haru had finally given in and read the goddamn book his friend was all but shoving into his face, claiming that _it's so great, Syo-chan, you won't regret reading it, you'll love it!_ And true to his promise, Haru—now known as Syo—had been stunned by every word he read, not for the brilliance of the narrative, but because of the story itself, which greatly resembled what he had lived through in Iwatobi, up until the training camp, which was where the book and the story became unfamiliar, and gave him a hint at who the writer might be.

He confirmed his suspicions when Nagisa dragged him to the library where the author of the book which had become his pink-eyed friend's favourite was signing copies in, and his gaze found him sitting behind a table, a gentle smile on his face and thick-rimmed glasses on. Haru nervously made his way to the man, unsure of how he would respond if his memories had been finally restored, but his heart drops when he sees no recognition on Makoto's eyes when they land on Haru.

The now author is surprised though, after glancing at Haru for a moment, and neither of them say anything until the raven-haired young man places his copy of the book on the table, and Makoto lets out a slight chuckle before taking it and opening it, the pen in his hand moving swiftly along the first page of the book and closing it when he's done, returning it back to Haru. "You remind me of my own creation," Makoto says, his voice barely above a whisper, his gaze a bit watery, and all Haru can do is inhale sharply and bow respectfully, before turning around and out the library, ignoring Nagisa's calls of his name.

He only opens the book once he's in the safety of his home, and the tears he didn't know he had been holding back finally break free and run down his face as he reads, in an elegant handwriting that was so Makoto-like, the words he signed the book with: _For Haru. Always be free._

He bursts out of the door once again, the book forgotten behind him, his feet taking him as fast as he can run towards the library, but Makoto's not there anymore, and even though he looks and looks for him, he can't find him again.

He doesn't find Makoto again.

**xxv.**

By the time he turns twenty-five Haru finds himself feeling lost, empty, the hope of one day having Makoto recognize him quickly fading, and he goes through his days in auto-pilot, wishing he could forget just like Makoto has forgotten him. Nothing makes sense anymore, nothing gives him strength anymore, and he questions why is he still fighting when he's not even sure Makoto will ever remember him, remember their lives, remember the many times they found each other, held each other, loved each other.

Not a day passes in which he doesn't ponder over taking his own life, but he doesn't even have the strength to do that anymore, and so he simply gives up and lets fate act as it pleases, whether that meant he would live miserable until the day he dies or not. He doesn't care anymore.

He's walking back home after a particularly stressful day of classes, ready to fill in the bathtub and spend a few hours in it, when he feels strong fingers around his wrist, and he turns around, ready to tell whoever is bothering him to fuck off, when he's thrown aback by the surprised set of emerald eyes in front of him, and soon enough his breath starts to come out in pants, and he doesn't realize he's crying when Makoto places his hands on his cheeks, wiping the tears with his thumbs, and Haru thinks he might be hyperventilating when Makoto too starts crying before pressing his forehead to Haru's, and when he speaks, his trembling voice tinted with relief, happiness, love, whispering a broken _there you are_ , Haru's reply comes in the form of a choked sob, a faint snort, a whimper.

Giving up on words, he lifts his arms and wraps them around Makoto's neck instead, and the kiss they share is messy and desperate and rough and salty, wet with their tears and snot, and neither of them let go until they absolutely have to if they don't want to pass out due to lack of oxygen, and Haru lowers his arms and wraps them around Makoto's middle, burying his face on the other's chest.

_I've missed you._

**Author's Note:**

> For the flowers thing, I looked up flower language and came across the [hanakotoba page on wikipedia](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hanakotoba), and based the drabble on that. Also I took the quote from [this post in marukaprompts](http://marukaprompts.tumblr.com/post/66449055639/a-fic-based-on-this-quote-and-id-choose-you-in-a) so I guess this could also count as a fill for it??
> 
> All kudos and comments are greatly appreciated. Also criticism because I'd really like to know what you guys thought of this. Thank you for reading!


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